


Sugar, We're Going Down

by Bigmurderenergy



Series: The (After) Life of the Party [3]
Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Drug Use, F/M, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Masturbation, Richie is still working through some stuff, Self-Esteem Issues, this time his sexual history
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 08:10:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20653973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bigmurderenergy/pseuds/Bigmurderenergy
Summary: How is Richie Tozier in bed?After sharing one with Eddie it's the only question on Richie's mind. It's probably not something he should be thinking about when it comes to the best friend he lost contact with for nearly 3 decades. But this is his story.





	Sugar, We're Going Down

**Author's Note:**

> Can't beat a classic as far as songs go. It is probably not relevant at all. Or is it?
> 
> This one only really makes sense in context with the other stories so I recommend looking through the series. It's not entirely necessary but makes me look better if you understand what's going on right now.

What is Richie Tozier like in bed? This is the question that rumbles around his own head quite a lot. Especially when waking up to an empty one.

Normally when this happens, it means the person who was there before has already been either escorted out or had something to do. Richie doesn’t really like goodbyes. So, this is actually a best of both worlds’ scenario for him in that he doesn’t have to make polite manners with that and he doesn’t have to make eye contact with them either.

The problem with that though is that he rarely gets feedback. If its someone who he knows in the industry, the drinking normally encouraging such rendezvous, you pretend it didn’t happen and move on. The groupie or fan is also a no go because there is no way on God’s green earth any of them are getting Richie Tozier’s phone number. Then there’s the random strangers in bars. Who generally are ok and don’t adulate Richie enough that if he did ask them it would be just be about how amazing he was and what a big fan they are. But bar pickups are also more about manners, so most are polite enough to be gone by the morning. He also doesn’t want anyone else having his phone number. Call it a quirk.

Richie did have a girlfriend in New York for a while, but that ended when she realized he was sponging off her apartment, which was conveniently placed above the bar he would work at. Also, she never asked for rent or food bills. She cottoned on 6 months too late and kicked him out. Richie assumed before she realized she was being fleeced she must have really liked Richie.

He assumed that. Hoped it was true.

The sex was… Fine? It was fine. Fine is such a horrible term for something that should always be attributed to the more extreme descriptors. Like “amazing”, “mind-blowing”, or even “are you a porn star?” Richie did get the last one once. It was a weird night; he drank too much and had had a sniff of MDMA. He couldn’t actually cum but the girl was very much enjoying him trying to. She was a fan. He wondered if anyone else would be that patient with him.

Back to the point. What was Richie like in bed? Apart from, normally drunk. He couldn’t really say. He wants to say his technique has been kept up to speed with all the dalliances he’s had. Let’s just say he’s rarely had any complaints.

Why are these the thoughts running through his brain when lying in that little bed in the middle of Derry, his childhood town he can’t remember. He looks at the empty space where Eddie once lay. He can hear the shower in the en suite. He imagines Eddie washing off the night before. Sluicing his naked body with soap and warm water.

Richie immediately slaps his cheek. Nope. Can’t think of Eddie in that way. The crack of the skin on skin breaks the silence. The warm sting replacing the bad thoughts Richie really needed to stop thinking about. He’d seen Eddie naked before. They were best friends, of course he had. Of course, it was over 20 years ago. But he remembers. Hm. Probably shouldn’t think about him in that way either.

Richie grabs the bottle of vodka. Slowly bringing it to his lips. He sighs as he can feeling the burning liquid trickle down his throat. Delicious, but cruel. He takes a long swig. Eddie is still in the bathroom. He’d probably smell it on his breath if they got close enough to each other.

He took another swig.

How is Richie Tozier in bed? He smiles as he looks at the king sized, he’d spent the night on. Well on this bed. Probably a 10. There was some excellent foot rubbing action going on there.

Another swig.

He thinks back to that first girlfriend. He remembers his face pressed up against her neck. Her pulse against his lips. He really like kissing people’s necks. It’s worth saying he likes kissing anyone if they let him.

There’s a thing. Richie enjoys sex. He wouldn’t do it all the time if he didn’t. It’s another one of those things he can perform within and get direct reactions. Gasps and moans, compliments from time to time. But it’s a direct cause and effect. Richie puts his lips to your cunt and you moan. Richie bites softly at your shoulder and you gasp. It’s a great self esteem booster. He likes giving pleasure. Giving love. Even if it’s just for one night. Especially if it’s just for one night. And considering he spends most of his existence drunk, Richie is even more handsy when it comes to alcohol.

He takes another swig.

This is probably not a good idea. He has shit to do today. He had to stop a clown shaped entity that preys on his fears. Richie can barely remember what he’s afraid of. He’s afraid of clowns. Which is something everyone knows at this point and come on, that It is very much the epitome of why clowns aren’t to be trusted. It eats children for fucksake.

Another swig.

It takes a while to get Richie properly drunk at this point. The joys of alcoholism. But the slow burn at the pit of his previously empty stomach was telling him what he was doing was definitely working. His head felt a bit lighter. That’s the best part of drinking. Feeling lighter.

Richie can’t stop thinking about sex right now though. That was even before the vodka.

Why can he not stop thinking about this around Eddie? Eddie, who is naked RIGHT NOW behind that door. Eddie who spent the night kicking bruises into Richie’s chest. Eddie who Richie once kissed so very tenderly that it alarms him it took him making it back to Derry to even remember it.

Richie can’t recall kissing anyone else like that. The smell of Eddie’s hair, thick in his nose. The softness of the back of his neck. The warm huffs against his chest. He felt safe, and he wanted Eddie to feel that too. He wanted to say and do so much in that moment. But he was young. How the fuck was he supposed to know it would be the last time he’d feel that way about someone?

Eddie walks out the bathroom, towel slung low on his waist. Chest damp with errant water drops, hair shiny with moisture.

Richie was holding the vodka, sitting on the edge of the bed. He wanted to do so much in that moment. He almost cried.

“Seriously, you’re drinking? What the fuck Richie?” Eddie sighed as he walked across the room. Closer to Richie. He smelt of pine shower gel. Richie wanted to lick his skin to make sure. “Seriously dude, you need to get it together, we got shit to do today.”

“I-I know.” Richie swallowed. This was not normal. This was the opposite of normal. “Hey, is the shower free?”

Eddie looked at him dumbly. “It’s just you and me buddy.” Still naked. Still beautiful. Fuck.

Richie glanced at the vodka. “Ahuh. I’m gonna go… Do that. Seriously dude, put some clothes on. You’ll die from exposure dressed like that.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

Richie masturbated in the shower. He’s not proud of it.

OK, he’s pretty proud of it. At least if he’s doing it in there in private, he’s not putting whatever these feelings are on Eddie. Eddie never has to know. He never has to know of the parade of young men who looked exactly like him in college. Richie has had about 3 girlfriends, none lasting more than a year. But the parade of young men? Richie slept on one of their floors for two years. Two years of listening to that gorgeous little man have sex with his equally gorgeous girlfriend. No, Richie is not over that. He will never be over it.

He kissed that man. He kissed him hard. Put everything he had into it too. It was passionate, but tender. Sad but hopeful.

The man looked him in the eye after and said “Dude. I’m not gay.”

Richie came with that face in his mind.

He came out of the bathroom shirtless too. Realizing he’d left his clothes in the other room. Eddie was sitting on the bed looking at his phone. His eyes stern and cold.

“Myra’s been checking up on me.” He said when he realized Richie was just standing there awkwardly.

Richie was not expecting him to say that. He was not expecting him to say anything. He went for the vodka. Took a swig. Handed it to Eddie.

Eddie looked at him. Looked at the bottle. Also took a swig.

“I mean I do love her.”

“I know.”

“I do. She’s amazing, you must meet her next time you’re in town.” Eddie smiled.

“Sure, lets do brunch or something. Brunch is the one with the champagne, right?”

“Yeah. We’ll do brunch.” Eddie took another swig of vodka.

Richie touched his shoulder. It was supposed to be in comfort. The way Eddie flinched made him realize it might have been a mistake. Eddie’s big brown eyes were contorted in some sort of sadness that Richie just couldn’t pinpoint.

He looked desperate.

Richie grabbed for the bottle. “One more for the road.” He grinned taking the longest drink he could leaving him gasping for air after, it burned his throat raw. “Anyways, thanks for the bed. Hope I didn’t snore too loudly.”

“No, no. It’s fine.” Eddie took the bottle from his hand. “You were fine.”

Huh. Guess that answers that question.


End file.
